Lily and the Silly Fuss of Being Art
by eSemmel
Summary: Something something hell something something good intentions. This omake won't make sense to you if you haven't read A Carnivorous Muffin's excellent fanfic "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus".


**AN: The following is a fan based parody of a fan based allegory of a riddle, wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma; but perhaps there is a key. That key is Russian national interest. More specifically, this is intended to be an omake of current developments in "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus", a very adorable Harry Potter fanfic written by A Carnivorous Muffin. If you haven't read it at least up to chapter thirty-two, what you are about to read now will make a little less sense than intended.**

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Lily didn't know what she had been expecting. This in itself was unusual, since she couldn't recall a time after she had become self-aware that she didn't recall in perfect detail. Yet, for the life of her, she couldn't grasp that fleeting image of her imagined future, as the real thing was just too overwhelmingly _present_ to be ignored. She tried anyways. It wasn't going well.

"You know," Lenin's voice came from behind her, drifting somewhere in an ill-defined space between world-weary acceptance, calm denial and restrained fury liberally sprinkled with abject horror, "the problem with bringing an idea into the world is that it won't just go away if you turn you back on it."

"I know," Lily did _not_ mumble, since improper enunciation was just too much of a hassle to puzzle through for her to propagate it. Still, at times like these she could admit its merits. In fact-

" _Would you kindly_ stop _that undoubtedly productive train of thought and face what you have done, or should I try my hand at giving you a headache the old-fashioned way?_ "

Lenin's tone had transformed a bit to contain the kind of bite that used to be followed with angry, headache filled silences. Lily did not think it would do to point out at this moment that he did not in fact possess hands to try with. She grit her teeth and replied calmly, and, she felt, quite reasonably.

"I don't want to."

Bracing for an impact that never came, Lily finally risked a look over her shoulder at the thing she had wrought. One appendage raised threateningly in the air wavered slightly before being lowered by the will of the dark mind that now occupied it. When it hit the ground, there was a light clop. Lily winced and carefully did not meet the eyes of the creature, not wanting to gage Lenin's expression on top of everything else.

They stayed that way for a long moment, a silent tableau of two beings who just couldn't find any words to talk about a situation that by all rights could not go uncommented.

Finally, Lily hedged, "I could try again-," to which Wizard Lenin exploded.

" _You will do no such thing, thank you very much!_ "

"It could be worse…"

"I really, really fail to– _no, don't point it out!_ "

Lily huffed and crossed her arms, turning fully around to face him now that the awkward silence had finally made way for an awkward conversation.

"Fine! So I made a mistake! But I know what went wrong! We _can_ fix this, I-"

"Lily. When you were picturing my new body, why did you think of John J. Rambo?"

"Oh, don't even start! Rambo is the epitome of manliness! When I think about a man's body, of course I think of Rambo! And then I was thinking of when I saw him last and things kind of spiraled out of control…"

"I _know_ , Lily. I was there in your head when it happened. I had a front row seat to that train wreck and I still couldn't escape. What makes you think a second attempt would fare better?"

At that, Lily threw up her hands in frustration because it was the kind of thing people did. "Well then I don't know. I guess we'll just have to make the best of it. Think positive!"

Wizard Lenin just snorted very, very loudly. He then lowered his eyes to send a betrayed glare at the organ that had produced the sound.

"I'm serious! Look, no-one is going to recognize you like this! You can start a whole new life! Do the things you always dreamed of doing but never could, because you were persecuted for your ideas!"

"Oh yes!" Wizard Lenin beamed. "Why didn't I think of this! I can start a whole new life as a _giant. Purple. Unicorn!_ "

"Technically, I think the term is _unimegalo_ -"

Lenin put a hoof on her mouth to silence her. "No. Stop. That word doesn't even exist."

Emboldened, Lily tried, "Well, but you have to admit, for a failed attempt this is pretty neat."

Wizard Lenin reared up at that, resembling in that instant nothing so much as the picture of his new form's inspiration as he neighed maniacally. " _Neat_ , she says! _Look at me, Lily!_ I _sparkle!_ Tell me _why_ , Lily! _Why_ do I _sparkle!?_ "

"Ahh…" Lily scratched the back of her head in embarrassment because apparently that also was a thing people did. "I don't really know. It's a unicorn thing I guess?"

Lenin landed on his front hoofs, pounding the floor in frustration. "No. No, Lily. Real unicorns _don't sparkle!_ "

Lily's eyebrows rose up, because his movements drew attention to a little detail she hadn't noticed before in the excitement over all… that. "Oh, hey! But at least you got a cool tattoo out of the deal! What does it mean? Do you know?"

Lenin's face fell a bit more before he slowly started to look himself over. "A tattoo? Where do I have a tattoo?"

"Ah, it's on your-" She vaguely gesticulated towards his flank. "-there."

"… the Dark Mark. Of course. Because a giant, purple, _sparkling_ unicorn wasn't conspicuous enough. I have been branded with the Dark Mark."

"What is-"

"The symbol I favoured during my so-called glorious revolution."

"Ahh…"

"Yes."

Spotting an opportunity, awkward silence resumed where it had left off. Shaking herself, Lily chased it away with a cough.

"So anyway, what do you propose we do about _him_?" she asked, drawing attention to the other complication their failed attempt had produced. Lenin just gave her an unimpressed look. "You are asking _me_. Really."

The shirtless Adonis in the corner shifted on his feet when he felt their gaze on him, clutching an M60 machine gun protectively to his chiseled chest. "I can't get it out of my head," he spoke up for himself, "A dream of seven years. Every day I have this. And sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. I don't talk to anybody. Sometimes a day, a week. I can't put it out of my mind."

"Maybe we could just drop him off somewhere quiet and relaxing…" Lily said uncertainly.

The man shook his head at that. "Sorry, babe. I don't ride with commies."

Lenin raised his hoof in anger at him. " _For the last time! I. Am not. A communist!_ "

Rambo shrugged. "'Certainly look like a hippie to me."


End file.
